


The Wake

by This_ape_writes



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Slash, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, cursing, early realtionship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8406925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_ape_writes/pseuds/This_ape_writes
Summary: Bones goes to find Jim at his mothers wake.





	

Who holds a wake in a restaurant that has flashing lights and a goddamned skee ball machine? 

Hey you're dead, lets celebrate with on tap beer and enough tickets to win a pencil topper that looks like Godzilla's head. 

Who's bright idea was that?

But as I squeeze through the gathered crowd, none of the faces of people that I pass seem to be having the same trepidations I have about the location. They're all having the time of their lives. Almost every single one of them is swaying on their feet drunk and they are yelling and whooping at god only knows what. It seems like a hell of a party. It's a shame that I would rather be anywhere else. 

I nod politely to people as I squeeze through but I'm not here to join in the fun. I'm not even here to pay my respects to the dearly departed. I'd never even met her while she was alive. 

I'm just here to find her son. 

I make it to the edge of the largest clump of people and I finally get the chance to look over the place. I start with a scan of the bar that stands in the center of the large restaurant. The building is like a warehouse with massively tall ceilings and no windows. It's cave dark inside here but the bar is illuminated with sharp blue neon light that pulses and undulates and casts everyone's faces in a glow that makes us all look like we're swimming underwater. 

I assume he's drinking. I can't imagine enduring this nonsense sober but an assessment of each person plopped down around the large glass bar reveals no familiar faces. 

I don't know for sure how long he's been here, and I don't really know for sure he still is. He was an hour ago when I called this place and described him to the woman on the other end of the phone, but he's always had a problem with staying put. 

He didn't call me. 

And don't think for one second I'm going to just let THAT slide. I didn't even know she'd died. I had to find that out second hand in a conversation being had in my own damn hospital by a patient that I wasn't even treating. 

I had to eavesdrop in on it like an asshole. 

And it stunned me. 

He hadn't been responding to my calls or texts for three days other than an occasional "I'm Fine" to let me know HE hadn't died but I wrote it off as stress. He was supposed to be at a conference half a world away and I know how much he hates those things. Now today I find out he hasn't been there at all. He'd come back planet side on Tuesday, after finding out she had passed which means he has been a 15 minute walk away from me for three whole days cocooning into his own depression and not letting me help.

He wouldn't even let me just BE there. 

He's gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. Just wait. 

I scan over the crowd that is talking and laughing just beyond the bar desperate to find him without any luck and I'm just about to climb up on the nearest table and just start screaming his name, but then I spot him. 

Along the back wall of this giant room is a row of booths with impossibly high privacy walls and enough seating for ten or so people to fit comfortably around each table. He has commandeered the one that is furthest away from anything else and his cheek is pressed into his arms that are spread out in front of him against the slick shiny tabletop. 

And my heart shatters. Empathetic pain floods my nerves up through my stomach and down my arms like that heart attack I knew he'd cause and all the angry thoughts and frustrated feelings and fleeting desires to shake some sense into him are one hundred percent gone. I'm left with just this aching pain in my chest that wants to bundle him up and keep him safe and far away from anything that could hurt him. Ever again.

My doctor instincts kick my feet moving toward him telling me he might be unconscious and I need to make sure that's not the case. God only knows how much he's had to drink. The damn fool. 

My first step forward however puts me in the direct path of a woman with two drinks in her hands and much more than that already coursing through her body and she slams into me with a giggle of surprise. 

"Woah there. You alright?" I ask steadying her and trying not to be angry that my jeans that were freshly clean from my closet not 30 minutes ago are now wearing beer on them. 

She giggles a little bit more and then yells up at me,

"I'm sorry for your loss!" I nod. 

"Sure," I yell back. "Maybe get the next round with water? Take it easy a bit..." I suggest. She taps my chest and nods dismissively as I let go of her shoulders and watch as she immediately starts to wobble. I make eye contact with the bartender she has just left and I make the international sign for no more by dragging my fingers back and forth across my neck. He nods and rolls his eyes. 

I dawns on me that he might think that I'm her date. Or worse, her dad, but I try not to let that bother me as I make my way toward my intended destination. I stop just long enough at the end of the bar to grab some napkins to try and get rid of the beer that is making my left leg uncomfortably cold and I manage to at least make it better. 

I ball up the beer soaked napkins and toss them on to the bar behind me as I weave through some empty tables headed towards the back wall. I push in a few scattered chairs to their proper places and as I get closer, the swirling lights catch his face and I'm surprised that I don't see the soft relaxed face of someone who has passed out, but wide alert blue eyes staring into nothing and deeply in thought. 

And irrationally, fear licks through me when I see that. I should be relieved that he hasn't drank himself into a coma but that has a direct cause and effect, a set of rules that I can fix. I'm comfortable with that. That's something I can manage. 

But now I'm gonna need words instead. And I don't even know if the right words exist that can make him feel better and I'm damn well positive I'm not the kind of asshole who is lucky enough to discover what those words are. 

I'm gonna make this worse. That's just a fact. 

God help me. 

But that thought doesn't stop me. It makes me hesitate a little bit but I screw up my courage and drop myself down against the shiny stiff fabric on the seating that wraps around the booth and I start to scoot my way towards him. 

 

He doesn't move. 

I want to tell him how stupid he's being and that he doesn't need to do this kind of thing alone but that seems like a bad idea. 

I want to tell him how much I love him but I haven't told him that before and I really don't want him to think I'm saying it for the wrong reasons. 

I mostly want to tell him how damn sorry I am that he's having to go through this at all but I think about the drunk breath screaming condolences at me a few minutes ago from a stranger who had no idea who I was and I realize he's probably heard those words too much tonight as it is. 

So I keep moving closer to him but I'm no closer to knowing what I want to say. 

I finally settle in next to him as close as physics will allow and I start to just say anything that will find its way out of my mouth even if it sucks, when he speaks first. 

"I miss my dad," he says. And that makes me frown. 

His dad? 

"I know," he says as he rolls his head over so that his face is buried against the table. "It doesn't make sense to miss someone you never met. I just wish he was here. I feel like he'd handle this so much better than I am and I feel like he could knock some sense into me," he mutters. I sigh. 

I reach over and rub my fingers against the back of his neck and into his hair and feel him relax a little bit. A burst of noise and cheers comes from the other side of the room and I realize there's a damn bowling alley back in the opposite corner. What the hell kind of place is this? I start to ask him who's bright idea it was to hold a wake here but he interrupts me before I can. 

"What are you doing here..." he asks without lifting his head. His voice sounds flat, and exhausted, and accusing. It makes me defensive. 

"Well you know, funny thing. Once I realized you were in town and not half a planet away I decided I wanted to be here trying my best to help you through this," I hiss out a bit angrier than I had intended. 

Shit. See? I told you I was going to make this worse. I feel him tense back up and I want to punch myself in the face for being so incredibly insensitive.  
"Sorry..." I breathe out in a long exaggerated sigh. "I'm really bad at this." 

He huffs out a laugh that's nothing more than a single sharp exhale. 

"At least it was genuine. That's more than I can say for anyone else that's talked to me today," he says as he lifts himself up to rest against his elbows. He stretches towards the glass that is sitting in front of him sweating condensation around its base like a small lake. As he grabs ahold of it and tips it toward his lips I reach out and rest my hand against his wrist to stop him. "Relax, doc," he says. "They cut me off a long time ago. It's water. See?" he says as he tips the glass towards me. I inhale and realize he's telling me the truth. I squeeze his wrist with gentle pressure that lets him know it's ok to continue and I let go as he tips it back and drains all of the remaining liquid down his throat. 

The ice that's left behind clinks as he pulls it away and sets it back against the table. 

For a few seconds the water tension between the glass and the slick table top creates a barrier and makes the glass slide forward but I reach out to stop it with my finger before it can slide too far. 

Dance music kicks on at an uncomfortable decibel level above us and the already loud room gets worse as people react to the sound by clamoring to dance wherever they are. It forces him to lean into me and talk right against my ear but I can't say as I'm objecting. 

"Want to hear something fucked up?" He asks. I frown but I don't pull away from him so he takes that as a yes and keeps talking. 

"All I've been able to do for the last three days is replay over and over all of the horrible things she did to me while she was alive. What kind of a shitty person does that," he says. I swallow and let my arm slip so that it's around his shoulders and not against his neck and I sigh when his forehead leans into my chin. This is even worse than I thought. He hasn't just been in mourning. He hasn't just been depressed. He hasn't just been withdrawn. He's been hating himself and I really, really wish I'd found all of this out sooner. He's had three whole days to spin himself into this mess. I may never get him back out. 

I clear my throat and I lean back enough so that I can talk directly into his ear. He shivers and leans into me more when my lip grazes a little bit too close and I can't help it dammit. That makes me grin. We've only been sleeping together for two months ok? I'm still enjoying stupid things like that. Give me a damn break I'm only human. 

"Listen to me," I say in what I hope is a commanding tone but not one that's going to make him feel worse. But he doesn't pull back. If anything he relaxes into me a bit more so, so far so good I guess. It encourages me to keep going. "Everyone processes these kinds of things in different ways. Being angry is absolutely normal. It's not like she was a saint, death doesn't somehow change that." He sighs but it doesn't stop me. "It's not fucked up. You aren't a shitty person. You're hurting and it's gotta come out somehow. You cried at all since this happened?" I ask. He shakes his head. "Laughed? Anything?" He shakes. "You slept?" I ask. He cringes. He knows I hate it when he doesn't take care of himself but he shakes his head. "So anger is all you've got. That's ok." I lean back so that I can look at him properly and luckily the music dies down a bit so my close talking isn't necessary anymore. "It's ok," I say again. "It's ok." He sighs and avoids looking at me. 

"Can you take me home?" he says. I raise and eyebrow and he shakes his head. "Can you take me to your home," he corrects. I take the moment to kiss his forehead and I nod as I let him go. 

"Lets get outta here," I agree. 

He slowly drags himself forwards against the awkward seating and when he reaches the edge of the pleather covered bench he stands up with a long stretch as he reaches his arms high over his head. Makes me wonder how long he was sitting there. He turns to face me and as I start to crawl out of the booth next to him he reaches down and takes my hand. I figure he's helping me up so I take the offer but once I'm firmly on my feet he doesn't let go but starts moving forward. 

I hesitate. 

"Uh..." I start and he turns back to look at me. "They may be drunk but there are an awful lot of high up officials in here. Do you really wanna roll out of here holding my hand?" I ask. He looks confused. 

"Does that make you uncomfortable?" He asks. I snort. A real snort. Super dignified I know but it's caught me off guard. 

"Me?! Uncomfortable to show that I'm with you?? Kid if I could take over the PA system in this shitty overgrown Chuck E. Cheese I'd announce that I was with you to everyone here whether I know them or not but...you have to... I mean you should..." I step a tiny bit closer to him so I don't have to talk as loud, and I sigh, "It's old fashioned but I know that personal relationships and the kinds of people you align yourself with can impact your career with these assholes wether you want it to or not." I can't look at him anymore so I shift so that I can still talk to him but I am too close to make eye contact. I stare at the room behind us instead and make sure even this casual close interaction isn't going too far. That it doesn't make us look like the couple that we are. 

"Look. It's been two months. Alright? And my reputation is not exactly going to offset yours in any kind of positive way. I don't want you to make a mistake just because of me," I mutter. 

He doesn't move. He doesn't respond. He just stands there like he's been frozen in place. I have no idea what he's thinking and it's driving me nuts, so I take a step back and I glance up at him. I can't read the look on his face. It's not happy I can read that much, but it's tinged with anger, or pain or something. I can see lots of other emotions too as they flit in and then leave his eyes while the rest of his face stays stone. I watch as he swallows and without a word he turns around. He hasn't dropped my hand though. In fact he's holding it so tightly now I can feel all of my bones crunching into each other under the force. 

Dammit he's stubborn. But I'm not about to pull free and make a scene. So I follow silently behind him through a crowd of people. And I'm amazed as I watch him. Not that that's anything new. My default setting whenever I've watched him do anything in the past seven years is one of complete awe. Why should today be any different?

He cordially accepts condolences as he passes people I don't know and he exudes the quiet grace of the diplomat that I already knew he was. But there's something more. Something different. Something in the set of his shoulders that looks...proud. And it hits me. That's the same look he has when he's giving orders on his ship. When he's in his element. When he is proudly standing in the only place I know he truly wants to be. 

It's like he's that same kind of proud right now...standing next to me.

I sigh. 

He's delusional.  
I'm going to have to break him of that nonsense. 

We haltingly make our way through the crowd with a couple of eyebrows raised in curiosity but nothing more before making our way out into the quiet that only the hours after midnight can bring. 

"Where is your car," he asks. His voice is cold and precise. I nod to the side of the building and I'm a little surprised when he still refuses to let go of my hand and uses it instead as leverage to encourage me to follow him. 

There isn't anyone out here. He's not holding my hand out of spite.

Maybe that means he's not irredeemably mad at me.

One can always hope. 

I unlock my car from a few steps away and he has to let go of me in order to climb into the passengers seat. As soon as he closes the door he quickly curls into the window beside him. We have a decent drive ahead of us even without traffic and I'm hoping that he falls asleep. After all he'd admitted that he hadn't been sleeping. I know damn well that means he hasn't even managed an hour or two of sleep total in the last three days. If that. 

I climb in behind the wheel and as I shut my door I glance over at him. He looks for a moment like he's going to say something to me but stops and curls back away from me instead. 

"You eaten?" I ask.

"A sandwich a few hours ago. Enough to survive," he mutters. I'm not sure I believe him, but I don't want a fight. 

"Lets get you home and in bed. You're sleeping tonight if I have to drug you against your will," I say. 

"Sounds like an ethics violation," he says. 

"Which is why my reputation isn't a good one to be connected to yours," I grumble knowing full well I should leave it alone but also knowing full well that I'm an idiot who never does the right thing. 

He shoots me another look that I can't quite decipher but doesn't say anything else. He just turns away from me and rests his forehead against my window as I start up the car. He doesn't speak again the entire ride home. I glance over every so often hoping to find him asleep but his reflection in the glass that is illuminated by the instrument panel shows he still has that wide eyed look of thinking too many things all at once. 

So I drop it. 

And I drive. 

I always forget how much I enjoy driving when we're out on a mission until we're grounded on earth again and forced to travel by car. I guess it's a good thing that I forget to miss it. I miss so many other things I don't want to add to that list. 

Like gravity. 

And solid ground. 

But we have at least two more years of earth bound life before I chase after him again in space so I'll focus on the good stuff now and think about what I'll miss when the time comes. 

As we start to get closer to my place the silence that fills the car starts to feel heavier. 

I wish I could say something to make this tension go away but I can't think of anything. 

So I pull into my garage in silence and before I can even come to a full stop he's jumped out of the car and is heading inside. I watch as he uses his thumbprint to let himself inside my house and I shut off my engine. Draping my arms over the steering wheel I drop my head down and groan. 

He is so much better at this relationship thing. He always says the right thing. Does the right thing. Is exactly what I need. 

Why am I so bad at this? 

But I don't want to psychoanalyze that tonight so I undo my seatbelt and climb out of the car and head inside after him. I open my door and toss my keys with a crash against the kitchen counter but before I can close my door behind me and lock it back up I find myself pushed against it and I wince when my shoulder blade hits the door jamb. The pain quickly dissolves in distraction as he is kissing me with more energy than a man in his state should have. To spite his angry posture, his mouth is anything but, and I can't help it, I groan into him and kiss him back. 

Goddammit he's better at THIS too. 

I vaguely realize his hands are in my hair and mine have disappeared behind his shirt but I can't remember what day it is or who I am exactly or what breathing was supposed to be for. 

Oxygen or...something. 

Fuck it. Who cares. 

I'm just getting leverage to pull him against me harder when he pulls back and trails kisses down my chin before resting his forehead there, giving us both a chance to catch our breath. 

"It hasn't just been just two months it's been a lot longer than that and I'm not going anywhere," he breathes. I let my thumbs rub at the bare skin they find themselves against on his back just above the waistband of his jeans and I frown as oxygen makes its way back into my lungs. 

"Huh?" I ask. 

"Nothing about my job is more important than you are. I love you Bones, I hate that you doubted that." I swallow and realize my breathing is not calming down. 

"Dammit, I was gonna say that first! I was going to tell you I loved you when I first sat down next to you tonight but I didn't want it to sound fake." 

That earns me a tiny grin. 

"It's not a race," he says. 

"But if it was you won," I grumble. He shakes his head but I stop him with another kiss. Soft. Sweet. And too short for my taste as well but just long enough before I pull back and shake my head. 

"I love you too." 

He leans into me and I can feel how exhausted he is. But he's had his speech for me being an idiot, now it's my turn. 

"Why didn't you call me?" I ask as I wrap him up in a hug. 

"I tried," he says. 

"You tried?" 

"Not really," he admits. "I don't know. I think I mostly just forgot that I don't have to do this kind of thing alone anymore."

"No. You don't," I say. I kiss the side of his forehead and I push us away from the door. "You need sleep," I tell him. 

"No I I..." he tenses up and I get it. He's right. Whatever this is between us has been simmering for longer than two months. That's just when we finally caved in. It has been seven years we've known each other actually, and that's been more than enough time for me to understand him. Even his weird sleeping habits. I know sometimes just getting near a bed kicks insomnia into gear for him so I don't even suggest that. Instead I push away from my door and grab ahold of his arm to steer us both to the couch. I kick off my shoes as we go and he sighs with relief and follows my lead. I grab the fuzzy blanket from the back of the couch and flop down dragging his exhausted ass with me as we situate ourselves with him settled in back against my chest. 

"Get as comfortable as you need," I mutter. "I'm not going anywhere."

I command the lights to dim along with setting the temperature at a comfortable level and I let him relax. I slow my own breathing to try and encourage him to do the same and I run my fingertips up and down the length of his arm. I use my other hand to stroke through his hair and I grin when that earns me a shiver. 

It's low down dirty tactics, I know, but he needs to sleep dammit. If I have to treat him like a cat to make that happen so be it. 

His breathing slows to an even pace but he's resting against my chest at just the right angle that I can see that he is still very much awake. Ethical or not drugging him is about ten minutes away. 

And I know what you're thinking. No I don't really know what you're thinking but if I were you I'd be thinking one thing: sex. 

Knock out some endorphins have some fun and then crash into snoring peace. 

Which would be all well and good except that I happened to fall in love with the one red blooded male in the world who is wired backwards and the last thing I need is him bouncing off the walls with extra energy like a damn infant. 

Then I really would have to drug him. 

But I like where your mind is at. Let's keep going with that train of thought and see what else can we come up with shall we? 

"How do I shut it off," he says pulling my attention back to him. Back to where it should be right now. Time to refocus. 

"Shut what off?" I ask. 

"It's like a movie that keeps playing over and over and over. It doesn't stop. Being yelled at for breaking the dishwasher. Breaking my wrist while she was off planet. I was like seven and I got sick and she wasn't there and I threw up all over myself and my step dad didn't know what to do and I was terrified." 

Oh. 

He's getting agitated now. I can feel tremors in his arms. I hug him tighter to my chest but I don't stop him. Maybe if he just talks it out. 

"God in fourth grade Bones? In fourth grade, my teacher accused me of cheating on this math test just because I hadn't done any of the homework but I didn't need to do the homework I already knew what I was doing, so of course I passed the test. I wasn't cheating! But I got sent home and when my mom got home that night she spanked me for it. Really, really HARD. And the whole time I was telling her I didn't do it and she didn't believe me! She wouldn't even listen!" I close my eyes. 

"Oh sweetheart I'm so sorry," I say but he's lost in the past. 

"Junior high? I wanted her to come to my baseball games. Not even all of them. Just one would have been enough. But we made it to the state finals and I actually hit a double that scored a run and she missed the whole thing. Showed up an hour after it ended. 

And my freshman year in high school my step dad left and she was gone for two months. Two months! Said I was old enough to take care of myself. I slept with every single light on in the house the whole time. I was terrified every day for two whole months. And I was so lonely. I was 14 Bones who does that?

Then I started throwing parties just so I wouldn't be all alone in that big house. Parties that got way out of hand. I shouldn't be alive, I really shouldn't," he says. "But I was a stupid kid I wasn't an adult. I didn't know any better. I shouldn't have been left alone."

He's really agitated now. Not that I'm much better. These aren't stories he's felt compelled to share with me before. Not in any great detail anyway. 

He's breaking my damn heart. 

He sits up against the edge of the couch and his knee is bouncing out of control. I readjust so I'm sitting with one leg curled behind him. That way I'm still close enough to try and offer at least a tiny bit of comfort. I wrap one hand around his waist and let my arm rest along the width of his lower back and he leans into me a bit but continues to shake. 

"I thought things might change at the academy. Following in her footsteps kind of a thing? Maybe that would make her proud." I hug him closer at that. The idea that someone would feel anything BUT pride for him makes my stomach curl into knots. 

"But remember that first year when I won the Presidential Academic Achievement Award for the whole academy? And they gave it to me at the end of year awards ceremony?" I smile. 

"Of course I remember. I lost my voice I screamed so loud when they called your name. Made for a hell of a time barking orders at idiotic interns the next day at the clinic. Rough whispering doesn't have the same effect," I say trying to lighten the mood. He doesn't take the bait. He's too lost in his head. 

"I was so sure she would finally show up for that. I was SO sure. I was finally doing what I thought she wanted and she couldn't even take time for me then," he says as his teeth find the edge of his thumb and start to gnaw away. 

But I'm remembering that night now and puzzle pieces are starting to click. 

"Hang on, is that why you were drunk?" I ask. He looks down at his thumb and nods before starting in on biting the other side. And I'm suddenly thinking back to one of the most terrifying nights of my life. 

I'd been looking for him after the ceremony and couldn't find him anywhere. I had dropped back by my dorm to change clothes so I could go back out and see if he was at one of the parties scattered across campus and I found him passed out cold in my bathroom. 

I thought he was dead. 

"Oh my god," I say grabbing him in a hug and holding his head against my chest. "You were drinking that much that night because of her?" I ask. "I was scared to death when I found you. I couldn't get you to wake up." He pulls back a little bit so that he can look at me and he looks confused. "You don't remember do you," I ask. He shakes his head slightly. 

"You stole a bottle of whisky from my kitchen and by the time I came home you'd drank the entire thing. And that whisky was no joke. It was cheap but wicked strong. It made the bottle last longer on a starving students salary, but it wasn't meant to be consumed all at once. You could have died. You probably WOULD have died if anyone else would have found you or god forbid I'd gotten home late. You're lucky I'm a doctor," I mutter. He frowns and looks past me over my shoulder, apparently deep in thought. 

"I remember waking up puking," he says. 

"Yeah that was my fault. I gave you something to make you throw up to get rid of the alcohol before it poisoned you." He still won't make eye contact with me but his hand reaches out to rest on my wrist. 

"No but, I remember you were...you had the palm of your hand pressed against my forehead and you kept it there the entire time I was throwing up. You didn't pull away from me. And you were rubbing my back. Bones you, you weren't just being my college buddy holding my hair back while I puked you were...you were holding ME," he says. He finally drags his eyes to meet mine and I know the frowns we have on our faces match each other. 

"Yeah?" I agree with a quick shrug not sure where this is going. And I physically see something click in his head. The muscles around his eyes go from being scrunched in a frown to wide eyed shock and the usual pink flush to his skin drains away. For a split second I think he's going to pass out. 

"You loved me," he says. I shrug again still confused. 

"Yeah?" I say. "I've always loved you."

"You were IN love with me. All the way back then," he says. I take a deep breath and I let it out in a sigh and briefly squeeze my eyes shut. 

"Yes," I say. "I was. So what?"

"You...but that was...I...I don't...but you've always been...but you followed me into...oh my god," his shaking gets worse and I see his eyes fill up with tears just before he doubles over. He grabs both of my arms to try and steady himself and I'm staring to freak out a little bit. He continues to mutter half formed ideas as he grabs a hold of me and I don't know what to do. 

"I didn't...I had no...I've never been...no one ever...I mean really NO ONE has ever..." his disjointed thoughts choke off into this awful sound. 

"Darlin' you're scaring me a little bit here," I admit as I rest my hands under his elbows. His fingers bite into my forearms and he collapses into me so fast I can't catch him. 

And as much as I love real gravity, it's being a real bitch right now as it pulls both of us off the edge of the couch. His arm clips the coffee table and it gets me in my knee. That's gonna leave a nice bruise tomorrow for both of us but I don't even have time to wince in pain before he's clawed his way across my body and climbed his way into me. We are both now trapped on the floor between the coffee table and the L joint of my sectional couch. But it's not terribly uncomfortable and there is no way I'm going to be able to lift us both up again. Not with him in this kind of a state. So I wrap myself around the sobbing shaking man that is buried into my chest and I sigh. 

This was inevitable I guess. 

He's exhausted. 

And grieving. 

And processing shit from the past. 

His reaction is absolutely normal but it still catches me off my guard and I can feel myself shaking from the shot of adrenaline that my body felt it was necessary to release. 

"Alright," I murmur. "I gotcha. You're okay. You're okay," I say as I rub his back and hold him as tight as I can. His fingers are stretching my shirt towards him and making the neck of it bite into me as he hugs me like a drowning man grasping to a life raft but I stay exactly where I am. Scared that if I even just adjust my shirt it will make him move and I don't want that. I want to stay just exactly like this for as long as he needs me. 

"You're alright. It's okay Darlin' just breathe," I say. And it's meant to be comforting. But every time I say something he curls into himself more and his sobs get worse. 

I can't even do THIS right. 

"James I don't know how to help you," I say, starting to panic just a tiny little bit. "Tell me what you need me to do." But that's a stupid request. He can't even catch his breath. How can he tell me what he needs? Instead he shakes his head and I give up. I just hold him and hope that's enough. 

I'm so glad I overheard that conversation this evening. I can't even begin to imagine how he would be handling this if he was on his own. 

No one should have to even try to do that. 

I gotta think that my ill attempts at helping are still better than being all alone. 

So I take comfort in that tiny thought and I rest my cheek against the top of his head. I've wanted to be able to do this, to be this close to him, for so long. I'm taking more pleasure in it than I have any damn right to. But I can't help it. He's right. I've loved him as long as I've known him. 

 

I don't know how long a human being can cry. I'm sure there's a limit. And whatever that limit is I'm sure he is pushing it by now. By the time his sobs quiet down to normal hitching breathing my legs have gone numb and my back aches. 

I wish I had a clock somewhere in my view to know for sure how long we've been down here but my guess would be that it's climbing up towards an hour. 

Not that it matters. I'll stay down here another three days if that's what he needs. But I can feel him coming back into himself and I take the opportunity to kiss the top of his head. 

And it's a stupid question that can only have a stupid answer but I can't stop myself from asking,

"You ok?" and then I cringe. 

WHY AM I SO BAD AT THIS! 

But, he breathes in a shaky breath through his stuffed up nose and he nods. 

"Come here," I say as I leverage the edge of the couch to try and stand. I grip underneath his arms and pull and we both have just enough energy to stand up before collapsing back on the much more comfortable sofa. He crawls back against my chest and wraps his arms around me as soon as he can and I sigh as I hug him back. 

"I'm sorry I'm not better at this," I chuckle as I spread out the blanket over the two of us and stifle a yawn. He looks up at me with a frown and shakes his head. 

"You're amazing," he says. 

"Ok either you don't know what that word means or you're delusional," I mutter and his hug grows painfully tight. 

"Stop," he says. "Just stop." I obey and shut my mouth. And I think that's the end of it but he isn't done. "I'm sorry about earlier," he says. Now he's the one that needs to cut it out. 

"Jim stop," I say thinking he's apologizing for losing control but he shakes his head. 

"No not that," he says. "I'm sorry I couldn't get out what I was thinking." He sucks in a deep breath and holds it for a second before he continues. "You just caught me off guard," he says in a rush as his breath exists his lungs in a whoosh. "But let me try again," he says. "You have been the most stable thing in my life that I have ever had," he admits. I already want to interrupt him and tell him he's an idiot. I'm not good at taking compliments but for his sake I'll try. 

"You've always had my back you've always taken care of me hell you followed me into space. You hate it there," he says. 

He's not wrong. But I stay silent. 

"You were what I was missing," he says. "I've never felt like anyone loved me before and I just can't believe it took me so long to notice that you were quietly loving me for seven damn years." 

"Well," I say. "You are kinda dense when it comes to things like that," I say. That earns me a laugh and I can feel my face light up in triumph. 

"I love you so much," he says. "Thank you for loving me back." And that earns him a laugh out of me. A laugh that gets a tiny bit out of control and ends with a snort. 

"You say that like I had a choice NOT to love you," I say. "Kid I fell in love with you immediately. How could I not. You're like the god damned sun you're so fucking brilliant. Don't thank me for loving you, I should be thanking you for letting me." 

"We're both idiots," he says and I grin at that idea. He yawns and I'm so relieved. 

"Yeah we are. But that's why we're perfect together," I say as he closes his eyes and finally gives in to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I know there will probably not still be Chuck E Cheese pizza places by the time the Star Trek era world rolls around but the line was too good to pass up. And hey who knows. Also I went to a wedding at a Dave and Busters and thought morbidly the whole time about what it would be like to have a funeral in one and this happened so there you go.


End file.
